


Bucky the Smitten Barista Hates Movies

by nekomas_heart



Series: College Cuties and Coffee [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: College AU, M/M, coffee shop AU, oh dear am I nervous about this hoo boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1895058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekomas_heart/pseuds/nekomas_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Halloween approaches, something's up with Natasha, Bucky is uninterested in the film he chose to watch, and Steve's back gets well acquainted with a couch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucky the Smitten Barista Hates Movies

**Author's Note:**

> As usual I apologize for it being not-good and unedited. I do a run through while making sure everything is italicized and formatted properly, but I always end up missing really embarrassing errors. Sorry! 
> 
> I was utterly embarrassed 99% of the time I spent writing it, and I took 2 days just on the second half. I rewrote it entirely three times, so I hope to God it's decent now. 
> 
> Here's a playlist for your listening pleasure that will be relevant to this part and part 4 [[X](http://8tracks.com/britnielikesthings/college-cuties-and-coffee)]  
> and here's a longer note from me about how I feel about this fic [[X](http://steve-loves-bucky.tumblr.com/post/90737857872/on-btsb)]

Steve woke with a start, sitting up so fast his head spun, chest heaving, and sticky  _everywhere_ _._  He groaned, roughly wiping the sweat from his face before collapsing back onto his mattress.   
  
He’d washed his sheets four times just in the past week, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it from Natasha. That is, if he was keeping it from her at all. He groaned again, embarrassed at the idea that Nat might be aware of his stupidly childish and annoyingly frequent wet dreams.   
  
It had been bad enough when she caught him scrubbing at the stain in the jeans he wore when Bucky came over for movie night.  _“Maybe we should go to a thrift store and find you a pair you won’t mind getting dirty. You know, for next time.”_  She’d suggested, and it took days for Steve to be able to look at her without feeling utterly humiliated. It’s not that Natasha would ever seriously judge him, it’s just that… they’d already suffered through puberty Hell together, and here he was acting like a 13 year old again.   
  
Natasha had always been shockingly wise for her age, had always seemed so much older than Steve despite being a few months younger. It may have been because she spent nearly all of her ten years at the orphanage before Steve even showed up, but Natasha inexplicably had the aura of someone who’d lived a hundred lives. He spent every moment trying to prove himself worthy of her friendship and hoping not to look like a baby in her eyes. Steve had never really grown out of it, and perhaps that  _did_ make him a baby.   
  
Deciding that it was way too early for him to have been thinking so much and that he’d been lying for way too long in his soiled pants, he rolled out of bed and peeled off the uncomfortable clothing with an audible  _‘_ _Ew!_ ’. After wrapping a towel around himself in case Nat was already awake, he looked back at his disheveled bed, the pile of dirty laundry on the floor, and then the clock.   
  
It was only nine, but Steve felt like he’d been awake for a century.   
  
He showered and dressed, making sure to brush his teeth and hair so Nat wouldn’t call him a slob, and before going out to greet her in the living room, he snuck his sheets and pajamas into the washing machine.   
  
“Morning!” She greeted from the couch as he entered the room, her legs against pulled tight against her chest and a bowl of cereal balancing on her knees. Steve loved Nat like this, relaxed and unconcerned with the world outside of their tiny apartment. She held her bowl in place so he could plop down next to her.   
  
“Didn’t you just wash laundry like a couple days ago?” Her tone was light, non-accusing. It was a genuine question, and Steve felt relief wash over him at the lack of a teasing smirk.   
  
He shrugged. “I had a couple of dirty outfits, and I dunno. I’ve been kind of hot and sweaty at night. I like clean sheets.”   
  
She nodded her head in silent agreement and opted to finish her cereal over continuing the conversation. Steve turned on their unfortunately small television and flipped through for anything decent to watch on a Friday morning. He settled on the news by the time Natasha was finished.   
  
“You want me to get you anything for breakfast?” She asked him, heading to the kitchen.   
  
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though.” He heard the water running and the clinking of glass as she cleaned up and thought to himself how lonely he’d be when Nat moved out and in with someone else. He wondered briefly if things with Clint were getting any serious.   
  
She did a little jog back into the living room, and launched herself over the side of the couch and practically into Steve’s lap, just a flash of red hair and energy. Way too much energy before noon.   
  
“What’re you doin’ today?” She asked, crossing her legs indian style and watching him intently.    
  
“Studying.” Steve answered, poking her nose.   
  
She stuck out her tongue in response to the poke. “Ew. Lame. Boring. No Fun Allowed!” Natasha shouted.  
  
“Fuck, you are so loud. It is too early for this.” He whined.   
  
“I can’t help you stay up all night fantasizing about  _Bucky_!” She sang, leaning her cheek onto her hands and gazing off into the distance. He pulled her arms toward him, causing her to fall forward, both of them laughing. “Speaking of, when are you gonna see Prince Charming again?”  
  
Steve let go of her to rub the back of his neck, the nervous habit he’d most like to be rid of. “Tonight, actually.” He confessed. Natasha excitedly poked him everywhere she could reach, sing-songing about him being in love and ruining his jeans.   
  
“Christ, I have never seen you so happy in the morning. You’re on drugs; show me your pupils!” He demanded good naturedly.   
  
“You’re  _never awake_ _this early_ , Rogers. Mr. All-My-Classes-Start-at-Noon-So-I-Get-to-Sleep-In.” Steve put his hands up in mock offense. “This is when I’m the happiest. This is before I’ve gone outside and been annoyed by most of the population.” Her voice dropped from playful to serious, so Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in to lean against him.   
  
“What is it, Nat? You okay?” He prompted, concern adding a soothing quality to his voice. “Is it Clint?”   
  
Natasha curled into his side, wrapping her arm around his waist in a little hug and squeezing. “I don’t want to talk about him.” She murmured, and Steve resigned himself to the idea of spending life in prison for murder.   
  
They sat on the couch like that until it was time for Steve to walk to Bucky’s, and even then he was unsure if he wanted to leave Natasha home alone. She hadn’t made close friends beyond Steve and Clint, the guy she started seeing during their first semester and who she likely wouldn’t be going to see while Steve was away. She assured him she’d be fine, and Steve believed her. She may not have been close with many people, but Natasha always made sure to have a long list of acquaintances for every situation. She was social and resourceful where Steve was hermit-like and anxious.   
  
She’d go out tonight, Steve was sure of it.   
  
When he got to Bucky’s there were no cars parked in the driveway, but the garage door was down, so he wasn’t able to tell if anyone else would be there. Though they’d seen each other 3 times since the day Steve gave that dumb speech in front of a full coffee shop, he still felt a bit clumsy in his relationship with Bucky. Though he wasn’t sure if he should say they were in a relationship, either. He shook his head to clear his mind of doubts and rang the doorbell.   
  
For a moment, Steve thought it didn’t work, but the door open and there Bucky stood, grinning ear to ear. “Hey, Stevie!” Bucky’s hair was free from its usual ponytail, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved since Steve last saw him. Steve slipped inside and couldn’t help looking around at the place. Five guys of various class standing including Bucky shared the townhome, but Steve couldn’t tell that. The carpeting was spotless, and there were actually small attempts at decor, paintings, framed pictures, and plants, scattered around.   
  
“It’s really nice!” Complimented Steve as Bucky lead him down the hall to the living area. He motioned for Steve to sit on the couch. The impressively large couch, Steve noted. Clearly the most important things to keeping a house of five college aged men happy were a huge couch and a huge television. And while Steve hadn’t been introduced to the fridge, he assumed it held more alcohol than actual food. It was a well known fact that beer was the third ingredient to a happy home.   
  
“Thanks, I guess. I didn’t have any design input though. I just moved in at the start of this semester.” Bucky informed him. “Do you want anything to drink or a snack before I sit?”   
  
Steve waved his hand to decline, so Bucky sunk down into the couch next to him. “Most of the guys are gone.” He said after a moment. “Johnny and Nathan are here, but they said they’d stay in their rooms if we wanted the big screen.”   
  
Steve sighed, relieved, and Bucky chuckled. “I was kind of afraid I’d be greeted by a house full of dudes. I wasn’t sure what to expect.” He admitted.   
  
“Nah! They’re really cool, actually.” Bucky said. “They totally respect personal space. They’re clean! That’s so important. Like, I thought this place would be a mess because I’ve seen the frat houses, God.” He shook his head in disgust. “But these guys are nothing like them.” He paused a minute like he was trying to figure out if he should keep talking. “However, we  _are_  gonna have a Halloween party here next Friday, and you’re invited… you know, if you want to come.”   
  
Steve beamed. “Yeah, yeah! That sounds like a lot of fun. I haven’t actually…” Steve rolled his eyes at himself. “I was always too nervous to go to the ones I was invited to.”   
  
“It’s fine, Steve.” Bucky assured him, squeezing Steve’s knee. “I’m not going to make fun of you for being shy or nervous. Don’t beat yourself up.” Steve felt his cheeks warm as he ducked his neck. Bucky patted the knee he'd squeezed and padded over to the bookshelf that held all of their movies. “What do you wanna watch?”   
  
“It doesn’t matter to me.” Steve shrugged.   
  
Apparently it didn’t matter to Bucky either, as within half an hour their shirts had been tossed to the floor, and he was hovering over Steve, grinding against him while they kissed. Bucky held Steve’s hands above his head, their fingers intertwined as their tongues met in languid circles. Their kisses were open-mouthed and hot, but the urgency Steve normally felt with Bucky was gone.  
  
He was vaguely aware of explosions blaring from the surround sound, but Bucky’s hair fell like a curtain, blocking them off from the rest of the world, and he didn’t care about anything but the weight above him. Bucky rocked his hips, expertly pressing his ass against Steve’s erection and eliciting a soft whimper from him.

  
The brunet sat back and smirked down at Steve, his lips red and swollen. Steve looked up at him through lidded eyes, breathing heavily as he waited for Bucky to move. Though he gasped in surprise when Bucky reached for his waistband, he quickly lifted his hips off the couch and helped slide down the remainder of his clothing.   
  
Bucky licked his lips hungrily, eyeing Steve’s cock where it rested against his stomach. He held his palm out in front of Steve’s lips, and instinctively Steve licked it. Starting at the head, Bucky quickly ghosted a fingertip down the underside of his cock before gripping it properly and stroking. Steve’s whole body tensed, and he couldn’t help the pleasured moan that slipped past his lips. The movie’s volume was up high, but not quite high enough to mask what they were doing. Bucky dove forward and covered Steve’s mouth with his hand, effectively muffling the sound. He pressed soft, wet kisses to his chest, neck, and jaw, making his way to Steve’s ear.   
  
“Ssshhh, Stevie.” He breathed, his hand moving torturously slow down Steve’s length. “Ya wouldn’t want the guys ta see ya, hmm?” Bucky drawled in his smooth Brooklyn accent that a year in Ohio couldn’t quite kill. Steve shivered at the ghost of breath against his neck, silently and minutely shaking his head  _no_.   
  
Bucky caressed Steve’s cheek with the hand that had been covering his mouth. “Good boy.” He praised, Steve’s eyes rolling back at the filthiness of it all -- Bucky whispering in his ear, squeezing his jaw, and thumbing the head of his cock. It was surreal, like one of his dreams.

Bucky slid down Steve's body, pressing kisses as he went, and stopped to hover right over his dick. Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair and watched hazily as the brunet smirked and leaned down to lick the precum that had trickled onto his fingers, swiping his tongue up Steve’s length and swirling it around the head.   
  
Stars danced in Steve’s vision as his orgasm ripped through him. The only warning for Bucky was a sharp tug to his hair, and he almost fell off the couch in surprise, chuckling fondly at the sight of Steve with nearly his whole fist in his mouth to keep himself quiet. He waited for Steve’s breath to catch up with him before leaning forward and kissing the blond, Steve groaning at the taste of himself on Bucky’s lips.

“You were easy.” He whispered into the kiss, and Steve broke away to cover his red face with his hands. Bucky laughed, uncovering Steve’s face and grinning down at him. “It was hot, Steve. I promise that  _you’re_  hot. And pretty soon you’re gonna get tired of my shitty handjobs.”   
  
“ _Shitty_?” Steve breathed, gesturing to the mess drying on his stomach. “Does it look like I thought it was shitty?” At that, Bucky tossed back his head and laughed, the sound coming from deep within his belly, and Steve knew instantly that if he ever had to choose just one thing to hear for the rest of his life, it would be Bucky’s laughter. 

“You’re just not used to ‘em.  _Yet._  One sec.” He told Steve and untangled their limbs to get up, disappearing momentarily and coming back with a wetted towel. He settled back onto the couch straddling Steve’s legs, and Steve became suddenly aware that Bucky was still hard against him. He lovingly trailed a fingertip along Bucky’s thigh as the man cleaned him up, butterflies swarming in his belly with each swipe of the towel against his skin. 

  
Steve quickly grew impatient and snatched the towel from Bucky’s hand. “Okay, I’m clean.” He insisted and brought his hands to Bucky’s hips after tossing it to the ground.   
  
“You don’t have to do anything, Steve.” Reminded Bucky sternly. “I’m never rushin’ you into anything, okay?”   
  
“You still think your handjob was shitty?” He asked, tenderly rubbing the skin of Bucky’s sides with his thumbs.   
  
Bucky laughed again, his cheeks flushing just slightly. “God, Steve.” He laughed a moment longer, and Steve drank it in, committed the sound to memory. “Yes. It was a shitty-ass handjob, and I’m sorry.”   
  
“Oh no.” Steve murmured, tugging at the waistband of Bucky’s sweatpants and looking up at him with a smirk. “I’ll show you a shitty handjob.”


End file.
